Give a Boy Some Blood
by Virtute et Armis
Summary: SEASON 7 SPOILERS: Dean had become obsessed with the Leviathan and revenge. All Sam wants is his brother back while he still has a chance.


This was the product of the Wi-Fi being out on my five hour train ride.

Aka this is pretty much thrown together in a blender and pureed to horribleness

enjoy :)

**WARNINGS**: hinted Wincest, **SEASON 7 SPOILERS**, Lucifer

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><p><em>Give a Boy some Blood<em>

Sam remembers when he used to want revenge after Jessica's death. He remembers the falling apart, the letting go, and then the piecing together. When that happened and all that time after, he never realized his brother had been vengeful. Sure, he knew Dean was touchy about mom, but he never knew how hungry for revenge Dean could be. He missed it before, but he's not missing it now. Dean wants to avenge Bobby and Castiel; and Sam wants to too but he is not willing to lose his brother in the process.

Consequently, the youngest Winchester tosses and turns, dreaming of Lucifer and his steady approach. He remembers demon blood, the power and corruption, and he wants it again. If he can take the Leviathan away, Dean will come back to him and not get lost in a dark place Sam's not even sure he can reach. His breathing is shallow from the burden of wanting, the burning need to be everything and more to his brother. He turns over, watching the empty bed as if it will tell him where Dean went.

"Frank came up a lead." Was all Dean had said before disappearing the other day. Didn't he think Sam wanted to come too? Before when he wanted to avenge mom, he _needed_ Sam. Now he's willing to throw him away, the passion dividing them too deeply for Sam to handle and, Sam's sure of it, for Dean to handle. So when he turns back and sees the leering face of Lucifer's vessel, he tries to blink away sleep. Lucifer only smiles at him more brilliantly, "You're tough to find kid."

"Am I dreaming?" Sam asks in a looping drawl. Lucifer shrugs and then nods.

"But you're brother is gone, all away from his Sammy. He gave up on stopping this thing—this thing that would destroy you and him for someone who's already dead."

"You're not very good at persuasion," Sam says tersely, sitting up but being pushed back down by an unbearable weight. "Lucifer"

"I wasn't finished yet, Sammy boy." The fallen angel takes a few steps closer, arms wide and understanding. "I know you will say yes, so this charity I'm about to hand you is rare, very rare. I can wait, but we all get tired of waiting, don't we Sammy?" Sam looks away, unable to meet the understanding expression of the devil. "I can help you get Dean, give you some of _my _juice. You'll be able to stop him, even bend his will, and bring him back home, back to you."

Sam eases up a little, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and faces Lucifer. "What do you want in return?" he hazards even though he knows the answer. It's always for him to say 'yes'.

Lucifer grins, slow and easy. "Nothing." Sam's expression goes slack before he tames it. "Like I said, Sammy, you'll say yes no matter what. I have no need to force you like this."

"You must be getting something out of this." Sam growls.

The leer on Lucifer's face turns sheepish, hands raising in surrender. "You caught me. You know that fire in your belly, Sam? The one I need?" Sam doesn't nod, just continues to stare harshly. "Well it's gone with Dean, walked right out the door with him. Sure you got some spark but no fire. I need that fire and so do you. What do you say?"

Sam looks down, thinking. He shouldn't have to think about this, though—this should be a 'no'. Dean would say 'no' in a heartbeat, he even screamed it at Zachariah when he was dying of stomach cancer. Sam clenches his fists, trying to fight back the tears and the braying of bitter thoughts. Because the truth is, Dean isn't here. Dean is lost and gone with revenge and he won't come back because you can't kill Leviathan—they kill you. This leaves Sam all alone chasing after the ghost of his brother, never quite being enough. Until, that is, he becomes Lucifer's vessel, then he would be. He would be enough to get Dean to look at him again.

Or, there's this other, new, 'charitable' option. Sam heaves a sigh. He'll have to meet Lucifer, though—see him and ruin Castiel's work (oh God, Castiel, what would he say?). So he'd ruin Castiel's last gift to them, turn into the things they hunt, and tear Dean away from his dying wish.

But Dean would be _safe_—it's the only shining thought amidst his doubt that makes sense and, whether it's conscious or unconscious, he agrees. "Where are you?" Lucifer asks, expression tender.

"I'll pick up the blood." Sam says sternly, "Where are you."

Another smile and "Colorado Springs."

"Give me five hours, I'll be there." Sam says already reaching for his boots. Then he wakes up and finds himself trying to pull on the covers. He laughs hollowly, releasing the sheets and moving over to where his shoes actually are. "This is for you Dean," he whispers to the empty room as he leaves, feeling some of his fire burning bright just beyond his aching heart.

When Sam reaches Colorado Springs he is given directions to a smaller town a little ways out by Meg who seems overly pleased to see him. Sam thinks about clocking her, but decides he better not, he can't risk fucking this up and having to call Dean for help. Actually, he probably wouldn't even call, he realizes, stepping out of his stolen vehicle onto the gravel parking lot of the "Fancy Betsy Diner". No, Sam would probably rather be torn apart by hell hounds than tell Dean he had lost faith in his big brother.

The diner is your classic wind blasted, trucker stained pit stop. What makes it not so normal is the only other cars in the parking lot, one with slashed tired and the other a rather nice Prius. The blinds are all drawn on the windows, yellowed and shifting with the latent power inside. Sam can practically feel Lucifer inside, calling him and begging him. It's nothing like how he senses Dean (because with Lucifer there is disgust and fear and with Dean there is only love). He presses the glass door open, feeling it give after a bit of negotiating. Lucifer turns around slowly from his place at the counter, smiling and offering Sam a cup of coffee.

"Hope you don't mind the change of location," Lucifer apologizes. "I aired the place out just for you though. Didn't even kill anyone because I knew you'd hate that."

And when Sam surveys the deserted restaurant he can sense that what Lucifer had said was true. He collapses bonelessly into a stool one down from Lucifer, unsure about how to manage the sheer amount of relief. When Lucifer passes him the steaming cup of coffee, Sam doesn't bother to think twice before gulping half of it down. "Easy there boy," Lucifer laughs, soft and melodic, "Got to keep some thirst around for the main course."

Sam senses rush back to him and he eyes the fallen angel carefully. "How exactly is this going to go down?"

Lucifer arches an eyebrow, a smile slip-sliding around his face. "I think you know," and at that he pulls the knife from Sam's sheath, startling the human with the grace of the movement. Then he upturns his other arm, pressing the blade to his wrist and drawing it across. The blood that burbles up is slow and thick, the smell is deafening. "Drink," Lucifer prompts and Sam can hardly remember himself as he dives in, sucking hungrily on the proffered flesh.

In a few seconds, a hand is pulling his head away, a distant voice joking that 'you shouldn't suck me dry'. Sam shakes his head against the hold, searching in himself for the new power. "Where is it?" he asks, panicked, unable to feel anything stir within him except a lethargic satiety. "I thought you said—"

Lucifer laughs, stroking long fingers through Sam's locks. "Give it a day," he chides, cupping the wide jaw and squeezing. "I'm sorry my blood takes a while to work, but I can promise no nasty withdrawal."

Sam nods, absently, eye lids heavy, body heavy, and he slumps into Lucifer's embrace. Lucifer looks at the human in his arms, his one true vessel. Tenderly, he nuzzles behind Sam's ear much the way he had down in the cage when Michael became too brutal, holding him close to his chest. "Your pain is my pain," he admits. "Remember that."

When Sam wakes up, it's in some sleazy motel outside of Boulder. A written note is pinned to the nightstand and Sam doesn't bother to read it. Instead, he focuses on the heat under his skin and the tightness curling within him. He raises one hand, focuses on the lamp, and sends it across the room with the flick of a finger. He smiles. He does this again and again to other things, able to lift the bed with only minor sweat on his brow. And, when he leaves the room, he humors himself by snapping and imagining flames leaping up. The crackle of a roiling fire greets his ears and he almost laughs hysterically as he sees the hotel room breathe with bright flame.

"Dean," he says tenderly, thinking of his brother, "Oh God Dean, you're coming home."

Dean isn't hard to find, Sam calls him and asks him about his location. At first he's nervous if Dean will ask him where he went, but he doesn't. Sam realizes pathetically that Dean hadn't even known he was gone. "Why do you do this to yourself?" Sam shouts into the phone, angrily, feeling his strength wrap around him. Idle sticks pick up from the ground in whirlwinds and he can taste lightning in the air.

"What Sammy?"

"Chase these damned things. I know they killed Bobby, but they're going to kill you too!" Sam says angrily, the phone popping and cracking in his fist. "Do you want them to take you away from me!" he screams, aware numbly that the line is dead. "Am I that much of a monster? All broken in the head and broken from Hell? Well how about you know something Dean, I am a monster, but one of us has to be." Sam begins sobbing, nearly falling to his knees. "One of us has to be the monster to keep the other one safe. I'm a monster Dean."

The last few words are whispered. They're caught up on the wind and carried across the desolate parking lot, swept into the fields and bits of dirt. But Sam remembers them, accepts them, and smiles. All this time Dean had said they were each other's weak spots, but that was assuming they were human. Now Sam is a monster and Dean is his greatest strength—and Sam will make him understand. Lucifer had said something about bending wills hadn't he? Sam will make Dean understand perfectly.

On the way to Dean's location, Sam tests his newly acquired abilities. He is able to make anyone give him anything just by soft-spoken suggesting. He destroyed a car with a thought although, he admits, it winded him quite a bit. Also, by experimenting with a waitress, he realized all the finer points of his metaphysical prowess. It takes Sam a week to get to Dean, but he holds off a day, sleeping a town over and formulating a plan. And, in much of Sam's way, when he falls asleep he has no plan at all.

It's not like he planned on not having a plan and it's not like he's that incapable. No, it's just every time he thinks of Dean, the burning need for him increases. And it's not just a need for his companionship, but for all of him, every last scrap of him. Sam remembers these feelings from when he had no soul, when he didn't understand that Dean was his brother. He remembers this feeling from when he was 14, Dean was his shining idol, and _god was his brother perfect_. Now all that desire is back, burning him bright and straight through.

Maybe Ash was right about the whole soulmate thing.

When Sam dreams he calls upon Lucifer, screaming his name into the dark, dank dungeon he dreamt of. Lucifer appears, leaning casually a few paces away. "You've been busy," he mentions happily.

Sam grits his teeth. "Alright, this shit…"

"my blood." Lucifer corrects.

"Your blood, alright, does it make you, change you…" Sam's fumbling for words, feeling increasingly stupid for putting together this little pow wow. The only reason he's this desperate is that these desires for Dean by this week's end had become to insatiable he could hardly think of much else except how he might want to pile drive his brother. "This damned nympho shit wasn't part of the deal."

Lucifer gives him a curious look and then a soft smile. "Oh, well, I didn't think you needed to know this." At that Sam lurches forward, but Lucifer stops him with a mild motion. "It doesn't make you more horny. Your soul, Sam, was pretty beat up. My juice just filled in the cracks and fixed you up. You're as you would be if you were whole."

"When I was whole-!" Same begins to counter, but Satan cuts him off.

"When you were whole you were brother's lap dog. Now you could practically be his god with how strong you are. Having that much power lets your soul know 'it's okay, we can handle this'. The power is telling you, you can have what you want and your soul is telling you what you want."

Sam is breathless, confused, and pretty damned angry. Then he understands, slowly, and wishes he didn't. "You knew about this," he says wretchedly.

Lucifer smiles, slow and heartbreaking. "As it is in heaven, so shall it be on earth." Then he sucks in a breath, "But then an Angel let the leviathan out, God—he left—, so the order has changed. Maybe you won't say yes," Lucifer says miserably, but has come to terms because, if Sam follows through, at least he and Michael will have mutual loss. "But you'll have what you want. And that's all that matters."

And in that selfish part of Sam, the one that forced Dean to give him the last of the Lucky Charms even when Dean really wanted it or to let him go off to Stanford and basically abandon Dean, Sam decides that is all that matters. What Sam wants, Sam now gets. And he wants Dean. "Thank you," he says genuinely and Lucifer smiles.

"No, thank you."

Sam wakes up prepared. Sure, he doesn't have a plan, but he has an idea and sometimes that's all you need. He calls ahead to a town a little ways out, to a motel there, and books a room. He adds some money to bypass check-in. The owner is confused, especially since the call came at 5 in the morning, but Sam calms her nerves some as his tighten like cables pulled taut.

He leaves his room soon after, gathering up his duffel and putting it in the passenger seat. He peels from the parking lot without a look back, only one glance spared at the seat beside him, imagining Dean there, smiling again and not so weighed down by revenge. He allows himself to imagine Dean happy for the first time in too long.

When Sam pulls up to the motel, he parks beside the Impala. Using his spare key, he tosses his duffel bag in the backseat. The smell of Dean hits him like a wave when he opens the door and he wonders how long he's been deprived of it. He wonders how it will feel to wrap himself up in it all over again like when they were little and Dean would hold his little Sammy like the most precious thing in the world. Sam closes the door almost regretfully and turns to face Room 09 where Dean is sleeping or maybe researching. But Sam can sense the tremulous air between them and knows Dean is sleeping, dreaming of Hell.

Sam presses a hand to the door, smiling when the lock shifts and the door opens soundlessly. As expected, Dean is splayed on his bed, one arm under the pillow, no doubt holding a gun. The savage Arizona heat has left him bare save for his boxers, that ride up a bit as one leg pulls a little further. Sam feels a deepseated hunger stir, but he tells himself not yet. Pressing his hand to the nape of Dean's neck, he imagines a deep, dreamless sleep. Dean sighs before falling into it and unconsciously curls into Sam as he's carried bridal style from the room. When Sam leans down, fitting Dean into the passenger seat of the Impala, he presses a kiss to Dean's temple. "I love you," he says with tears in his voice, reaching out despite himself and touching all parts of Dean's face as if he were blind and just wanted to remember some of what his brother looked like. Then Sam pulls away and walks around the Impala to the driver's side, sliding in and beginning their journey together.

When Dean wakes up he feels rested, which is odd. Normally he feels stressed and a little sick. He also finds it odd that this is not his motel room and that Sam is sleeping beside him, holding him in his arms. Dean tries to get away, but Sam's arms grip him tighter, pulling him back so that Dean's back is spooned against Sam's broad chest. "Don't leave me," Same says in a sleep-warmed voice, lips brushing the shell of Dean's ear. Dean decides this is some bad joke and tries to get away again, but Sam's arms are like iron.

The more he struggles, the more Sam's breath hitches until he's awake. "Dammit Dean," he groans, finally letting go of his fidgety brother. "I was having the best dream." Sam drawls irritably, turning on his back and shielding his eyes from the sun with his forearm.

Dean sits up and looks around, not recognizing anything. "Where are we?" he asks, agony in his voice. Something isn't right and he can feel it. Just like he can feel his mind shutting down on him, falling in to sleep way too easily for how panicked he feels. "Sam…!" he says angrily.

"Go back to sleep Dean," Sam advises and Dean does, just falling over and giving in to another bout of sleep, this time filled with nightmares of Hell. Except, unlike the flashbacks, Sam is there. And, oddly, they are the worst nightmares he's ever had.

When Dean wakes again, he's in another new place, a place he realizes he has been before. God, he spent three weeks here not too long ago. "What are we doing in Bobby's?" Dean asks, highly unsettled that he's in the panic room. Sam is there in an instant, looming from the shadows on the wall.

"Hiding from the Leviathan," Sam explains, expression switching from happy to angry too quickly, "The one's you pissed off? It would be those Leviathan."

Dean tries to get up from the cot, but is promptly knocked back down. He looks for restraints but sees none, only Sam's cool smile. "You know how you said you'd always take care of me Dean?" Dean nods feebly. "Well now I'm going to take care of you."

Sam utilizes his height to cross the distance between them quickly and leans over Dean's prone form. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but closes it in favor of pressing a kiss to Dean's forehead. "I'll save you from yourself, Dean" Sam mouths against the plane of skin, fighting every urge to plunder the mouth just a few inches away.

"Sammy," Dean appeals.

Heat curls in Sam's gut and he pushes away before he'll do something he'll regret. "Just understand, Dean," he pleads, pinning his brother to the cot with his new power. Dean fights it, screaming "sammy' until his voice is cracked and worn. Sam stands on the other side of the steel door, wishing desperately that he had some other reason to offer Dean than his own selfishness.

"But I can't live without you," he whispers, swiping at tears. "Like you couldn't when I died, I can't live with you gone. I'm sorry."

Sam walks away, gathering himself and his abilities for another wave of Leviathan. He contemplates negotiating, but part of him still seeks revenge and all of him is prepared to mete it out.

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><p>Read and review or message me to discuss supernatural, I'm not picky :)<p>

ALSO I would love to finish this fic, but I cannot, for the life of me, write porn. I can't, it just comes out messy and funky and not right at all. If someone wants to pick this up, like finish this story, I'm cool with it, just let me know (also give me the link when you're done so I can read it). I also won't force you to go the direction I want, but I can give you the prompt.


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